


Sing, Bluebird

by ThatDamnKennedyKid



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Idiots in Love, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Outdoor Sex, They're an old married couple without being old
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-08 00:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17375723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDamnKennedyKid/pseuds/ThatDamnKennedyKid
Summary: Connor had a way about him where everything he did was able to fuel Arno's lust. Doing chores in his pants and arm bands with his hair loose? That was just cruel.





	Sing, Bluebird

Connor was down at the mill when he found him, helping haul logs. Norris was heaving as best his little body could, but it was apparent to all that Connor was bearing the brunt of the weight. Miriam's smile told him so. 

"What a beautiful day, eh, Arno?" She smirked, wicked in all the right ways. 

"Oh yes." He crossed his arms, his own lecherous grin breaking out. The dear old marquis would be proud of how far he'd fallen. 

Connor heaved the last of the log onto the mill, taking it from Norris completely. The French-Canadian pouted, but was ultimately resigned to his fate. He was a miner, by no means a weak man, but Connor was taller, broader and used to hauling his own weight up buildings and his game across the forest. 

" _Terí:teri._ " Connor greeted, wiping sweat off his face and pushing stray hands that managed to escape his hair tie out of his eyes. "Did you need me?"

"Depends on your definition." He leaned back, highlighting his own naturally sleek assets. He was wearing some of his Parisian clothes today, the tailored ones that trimmed his waist and highlighted his legs. 

Miriam's smirk was absolutely devilish, sauntering over to Connor and pulling out the leather tie. 

"Myriam?" The native murmured, confused. 

She tossed it away, eyes on Arno. "I hope you give good chase, pretty bird."

With a laugh, he tilted his head to the side, Connor's marks from the night previous peeking out even past the high collar. "I certainly give good sport, rest assured."

"You have as long as it takes me to make Connor understand as a head start. Make sure it's worth it."

He ran his hands through his hair, loose about his shoulders. Connor's eyes darkened - he knew what that meant. His head start would likely not be so lengthy. 

* * *

If he'd been asked back in Paris by Napoleon or even Élise to run from them as foreplay in a forest, he would have told them they were mad. 

He was sweating already by the time he stopped, some ways away from the mill, to listen for Connor's approach. He hadn't worn his culottes - outdated fashion regardless - but his tall boots, from his Assassin's uniform. Lighter footed and less to track, smooth up his legs to help him slide down rooftops. Connor loved them, his own boots made of doeskin. He was even harder to hear approach than Arno, despite his size. 

A twig snapped above him and he took off just in time to feel Connor land where he had been. With a joyous laugh, he set into his speed, putting as much energy into his legs as his body could afford. More than once, Connor's fingers brushed his back or his arm. He could hear the larger man barely over the rush of his own heart in his ears. 

On the streets of Paris, Arno would have outpaced him. In the woodlands of rural New York state, Connor had the footing advantage. He was nimble here, his assurity of movement confirmed. 

Connor's entrance into his life had changed it irreparably. The depth of Connor's quiet love and devotion were unlike anything he'd ever had. Even Élise, for all their sparkling chemistry and childhood affection, had put him second to not only her revenge, but her Order. Connor's attention was singular - he would never sacrifice his family, even for justice for another slain member. And he'd welcomed Arno with Léon - a scrawny boy of eight clinging to Arno's greaves - into not only his self-made community, but his home and his heart. 

Deer scattered as he burst into  a clearing, skidding to a stop on the edge of the bay. He turned to face his pursuer, finding Connor walking calming after him, breath quiet and rapid, but measured. A hunter in all forms, this man. 

"It seems I have found you." 

"Found me, yes. Caught me?" He smirked as the wind picked up his hair, his bangs dancing in front of the wicked gleam in his eye. "I think not."

Connor's own hair bustled around him, brown with thin streaks of grey winding through it fluttering about his waist. "I have not?"

"Nope." He turned, let the wind caress his face, then jumped off, diving into the bay below. A few seconds after he surfaced, Connor hit the water's surface. 

He only had a few seconds before Connor would get his bearings. He swam towards an inlet Léon and Hunter had found a few years back that concluded in an underground spring. It overlooked the water and was shielded by shrubbery, but he protected from the winds by the jutting cliff walls. 

He barely made it to the edge to pull himself up on land when Connor spun him around, pushing him against the rock. 

Oh yes, that was certainly heat. And it seemed that the chill of the bay waters had done nothing to dissuade Connor's anatomy from perking up. 

_"You'd think I'd get a break in the winter, at least." He'd complained to Myriam once._

_"He's a native. They're ready to go outside when the snow's knee high. Wear ya out, he will."_

He smirked, well aware that the expensive cotton of his blouse was transparent when wet. The thick blue-black marks from the night before and the night previous to that were in bloom on his neck and collarbones. 

"I have not seen these clothes in some time." Connor's hair was plastered to his face, his muscles and chest flexing as he regained his breath. 

"I know you like them. And I thought you might like a treat. A gift."

"A gift?" Connor moved closer, nuzzling into his neck and licking the spot just under his ear. "You are your own gift."

"Today is the anniversary of my arrival in the colonies." He murmured, almost losing his train of thought when one of Connor's hands disappeared back under the water to grab a generous handful of his ass and thigh. 

"I recall." Connor rumbled, tilting Arno's head back to access the dip between his neck and jaw that stopped his brain. Connor had learned well, and quickly, that his lover very much enjoyed being controlled by those he loves. And did he ever relish Connor's hold in his hair, the adoring way he would kiss down his stomach, the possessive hold of his body and the toe-curlingly intense fashion with which he drove Arno to orgasm. 

"I wanted to celebrate." He broke off into a moan, his nails digging into the meat of Connor's shoulders. "Oh yes. Mmmm."

"Continue to grind against me like this and anything you have planned, we will not accomplish." Connor rumbled. 

"You dirty cheat." He groaned. "You rile me up, then call on my self-restraint?"

"Indeed." He kissed up Arno's neck, taking a moment to steal a sweet kiss, tongue flicking out at the very end to catch a little taste. 

"Augh. You're a villain."

"What did you plan for tonight,  _terí:teri_?"

"Let me out of the water,  _mon chou_."

Connor backed off enough for Arno to turn around, but then hiked the smaller man out of the water. Arno yelped, looking over his shoulder to scowl, but Connor was unrepentant. 

"I hope the leather doesn't ruin." Connor commented, hands sliding down his legs. "You look so good in them."

"Yes, wouldn't it be a shame?" He smirked, only partially meaning the sarcasm. "Follow me, if you wish for your gift."

Connor hiked himself up out of the water, his copper skin glistening , rivulets streaming down all the crevices that Arno's tongue desired to run through. His leather trousers were flattened with the liquid, presenting an even more flattering image. The bands on his upper arms only emphasized how gorgeous the strength there really was. 

"No wonder Napoleon was jealous." He commented, still glued to the erotic display. "What former lover wouldn't wilt in the sight of such majesty?"

Connor assessed him right back, finding the thin fashionable fabrics to be more clingy than ever when faced with moisture. He was practically naked through his clothes. "I am not intent on finding out."

Arno's heart melted a little. "You are the first and last of me,  _mon ours_."

Connor stepped into his space and he reached up, finding the little braid amongst the dense tangle of hair. When Connor had first convinced him not to cut his hair, he'd insisted on one last chop to allow it to grow evenly. Connor had taken a lock of the casualties and braided it into a small piece, maybe the length of his hand, and braided it tightly, burning the ends together. He then wove it into his own hair, rebraiding it in every time he bathed. 

"How well do you have this evening planned?"

"The little bird is with Prudence, there's a fire going in the cave and I have a nest of blankets big enough to house you."

Connor's grin was sweet and charmed. "I suppose I can not leave you alone so long again."

"I do like the attention." He pulled Connor into another kiss. "Shall we?"

"After you."


End file.
